譯作賞析

一個華裔作家的「故事」

The Magic of "The Paper Menagerie"

  各位老師、同學,大家好。我今天要跟大家介紹一篇於我心有戚戚焉的小說,中文版翻譯為《手中紙,心中愛》,是華裔美國作家劉宇昆(Ken Liu)在2011年出版的科幻短篇小說

  故事裡的主角叫傑克,他的爸爸是美國白人,媽媽是來自中國的移民。傑克小時候非常喜歡他媽媽給他摺的紙動物。可是他長大了以後,因為受到了社會對亞洲人的歧視,所以開始厭惡他的媽媽和那些紙摺動物。為了避免被歧視,傑克想要像白人一樣。他叫爸爸給他買新的玩具,也硬要媽媽說英語、做美國菜。他一直到媽媽病死的時候都不認同他亞洲的背景。在媽媽去世的兩年後,傑克找回了小時候的紙摺動物,還有媽媽寫給他的一封信,因此開始反思以及後悔

  雖然這篇小說只有短短的幾頁,但我每次看都淚流滿面。我相信這個故事中的某些情節跟很多移民孩子的經驗不謀而合。作為一個亞裔美國人,我能理解傑克跟自己母親的背景、文化和語言的隔閡。我小時候也會有那些幼稚的想法跟行為,比如說我以前覺得我爸爸說英語的樣子令人很尷尬,而且我不想帶我媽媽做的飯去學校,因為我怕同學會覺得有奇怪的味道。我長大以後才知道,自己的家庭背景是一件值得驕傲的事情,而不是應該感到羞愧的事情。我因此開始學習中文,開始了解中國文化

  故事裡有一句話給我留下很深刻的印象。傑克要求他媽媽說英語的時候,他的媽媽說:「我說「love」的時候,感受在這裏(指嘴唇)。我說「愛」的時候,感受在這裏(指胸口)。」我覺得自己非常幸運,能在老師們的幫助和同學們的陪伴之下學習中文,現在,我終於可以跟我媽媽、外婆說她們的母語,讓她們在內心深處感受到我的愛

  接下來,我要給大家唸一下這篇小說的第一段。這一段是我在筆譯課翻譯的,希望各位可以一起欣賞

 

One of my earliest memories starts with me sobbing. I refused to be soothed no matter what Mom and Dad tried.

我人生最早的記憶是從一次大哭開始的。爸媽怎麼哄也哄不了我。

Dad gave up and left the bedroom, but Mom took me into the kitchen and sat me down at the breakfast table.

爸爸放棄了,就離開臥室,但媽媽卻抱著我去廚房,讓我坐在餐桌旁的椅子上。

"Kan, kan." Look, look, she said, as she pulled a sheet of wrapping paper from on top of the fridge. For years, Mom carefully sliced open the wrappings around Christmas gifts and saved them on top of the fridge in a thick stack.

她從冰箱頂上抽出一張包裝紙,說「看,看。」每年聖誕節,媽媽都會把禮物的包裝紙小心翼翼地剪開,疊放在冰箱上。

She set the paper down, plain side facing up, and began to fold it. I stopped crying and watched her, curious.

她把包裝紙攤在桌子上,素面朝上,就開始摺。我停止哭泣,看得目瞪口呆。

She turned the paper over and folded it again. She pleated, packed, tucked, rolled, and twisted until the paper disappeared between her cupped hands. Then she lifted the folded-up paper packet to her mouth and blew into it, like a balloon.

她把紙反過來,又繼續摺。不斷地摺、壓、塞、捲、扭,那張紙就這樣在她手心裡消失了。接著,她把摺好的紙包放在唇邊,輕輕一吹,紙張正如氣球般變得有血有肉。

"Kan," she said. "Laohu." Look, a tiger. She put her hands down on the table and let go.

「看。」她說,「老虎。」她把合攏的雙手放在桌子上,然後打開。

A little paper tiger stood on the table, the size of two fists placed together. The skin of the tiger was the pattern on the wrapping paper, white background with red candy canes and green Christmas trees.

紙摺的老虎小小的,跟兩個拳頭加起來差不多大。牠的虎皮就是包裝紙的圖案,白色的底上有紅色的糖果跟綠色的聖誕樹。

I reached out to Mom's creation. Its tail twitched, and it pounced playfully at my finger. "Rawrr-sa," it growled, the sound somewhere between a cat and rustling newspapers.

我向媽媽做的小老虎伸手。牠的尾巴動一動,頑皮地撲向我的手指。牠的叫聲在喵喵跟沙沙之間。

I laughed, startled, and stroked its back with an index finger. The paper tiger vibrated under my finger, purring.

我驚訝地笑了,用食指摸摸牠的後背。小老虎呼嚕呼嚕叫著,抖了一抖。

"Zhe jiao zhezhi," Mom said. This is called origami.

媽媽說:「這叫摺紙。」

I didn't know this at the time, but Mom's kind was special. She breathed into them so that they shared her breath, and thus moved with her life. This was her magic.

我當時不知道,但媽媽的摺紙技巧很神奇。她輕輕一吹,這些紙摺動物就藉著她的氣息甦醒過來。這種魔法,只有她一個人會。

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